


every day, with someone new

by hock



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, CaBenson, F/F, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Title from a Hozier Song, Vaginal Fingering, also cabenson just gets me, and i know alex/oc might be a turn off for some people but trust me ok, and like idk..... smth about alex having gay sex in wpp, i have been thinking about this since i rewatched loss/ghost, i too hate oc stuff but this is for plot reasons, its not a weird self insert, ok ok ok, working title "alex having gay sex asf"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hock/pseuds/hock
Summary: Alex Cabot was sitting on a sticky bar stool and swirling her drink around in its glass.Correction, she reminded herself. Emily Davis was sitting on a sticky bar stool and gazing out at the open dance floor.-Or, Alex having sex with other women to forget Olivia. Spoiler, it doesn't work.
Relationships: Alexandra Cabot (L&O: SVU)/Original Female Character(s), Olivia Benson/Alexandra Cabot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	every day, with someone new

**Author's Note:**

> ok hehe hello discord people i hope this is all you dreamed of and more  
> tumblr @hockyeah!!!

Alex Cabot was sitting on a sticky bar stool and swirling her drink around in its glass.

Correction, she reminded herself. Emily Davis was sitting on a sticky bar stool and gazing out at the open dance floor.

No, scratch that. She’s missing an important piece of her own puzzle. She tried again.

Alex Cabot was sitting at a gay nightclub, drink in one hand and the neatly trimmed fingernails of the other drumming against the counter. She had driven an hour out to even get to a gay bar, and exponentially more time to convince herself that it was worth the drive, even. And even more time to explain to the Marshals that she wasn’t going to be spotted at a gay bar in Wisconsion any more than she would be on a lunch break at her shitty 9-5 office job.

She’d left out the fact that it was a gay bar, specifically, but she figured that distinction didn’t matter much. To them, she just needed a change of scenery. 

She had checked herself in her car mirror, carefully reapplying her red lipstick and anxiously rubbing her lips together. She was wearing the red dress like one she used to own, its familiarity not exact but comforting nonetheless. It occurred to her, as she stared at her fuzzy reflection, that the last time she wore a dress like this had been in New York. It had been with Olivia.

Thinking of Olivia had only made her gut flip and heart tremble. 

She then had to remind herself that she wasn’t Alex Cabot anymore. She wasn’t Alex Cabot and she wasn’t in love with Olivia Benson. She was Emily Davis and she was here to finally move on.

She looked down at her drink again. She knew deep down that she hadn’t actually moved on, and tonight probably wouldn’t result in any significant change. But she justified it like so nonetheless, taking a sip of her drink and again looking at the crowd of people in the space.

She was currently sitting alone at the bar. There was a butch couple practically on top of each other in the booth closest to her, whispering to each other and taking turns to laugh between kisses. The dance floor was bumping and grinding, with emphasis on the latter. Alex had arrived promptly at 9 and grabbed a seat at the bar, where she had been nursing a drink for the past half an hour.

She was sort of grateful to have been left alone for so long. It gave her time to collect her thoughts.

She hadn’t been to a gay bar in a very long time. In college, and even in law school she had been a frequent visitor, hair teased a mile high and lips pink and glossy. She maneuvered the scene with ease, using the social chameleon skills gained in her youth to travel between the boisterous nightlife to her pretentious lectures the following morning.

She invited all sorts of women into her bed -- big strong butches in tanks with tattooed forearms that topped her until she couldn’t remember her own name, tiny high pitched femmes in their miniskirts and tube tops with bubbly laughs and lips to match. So repressed in her youth, Alex Cabot let herself learn that her mouth wasn’t only good for making arguments in chambers.

Then, after she passed the bar, she moved to New York and everything changed. Suddenly, she was all politics and image. Suddenly, she realized how a misplaced rumor of her in the wrong bed at the wrong time could topple her entire career. So she stopped. She tamed her hair back into loose waves and tucked her buttoned dress shirts into modest, above-the-knee skirts. She recoiled back into her repressed, socialite self, shoulders back and heels clacking nervously against tiled floors.

And everything changed all over again when she was reassigned to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

Everything changed when she met Olivia Benson, with her short, spiky hair and dykeish look about her. 

It felt almost like a weakness to admit that she fell in love with Olivia Benson.

Alex fell in love with smooth, tan skin and dark brown eyes. She fell in love with big men's watches and long trench coats -- with long nights and early mornings, with having her dry cleaning delivered to Olivia’s apartment so she would have something to wear the next day.

She fell in love and had it all ripped away.

But she wasn’t here to reminisce, she reminded herself. She was here to move on. She was here to be Emily Davis and meet new women in her new life. She was not here to be Alex Cabot.

A voice brought her out of her stupor.

“I sincerely hope you’re not waiting for anyone -- that seat is usually reserved for me.”

Alex turned and saw a woman with dark brown hair leaning against the bar. She was shorter than Alex, but not by much, heels making up the difference. She seemed cocky, but in a good way, smirking slightly.

Alex took her invitation. “I was actually saving it just for you,” She replied, the flirtation rolling easily off her tongue. The woman grinned, generously surveying Alex Cabot. She watched her gaze linger on her cleavage and travel up her neck to her face. She felt looked at, objectified, but not in a way that caused discomfort. It felt hot to be seen like that.

The woman slid onto the stool next to her, giving Alex a flash of teeth. “Andrea Campbell. I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Emily Davis,” Alex replied, having practiced her response. No matter how many times she said it, the name still felt unnatural rolling off her tongue. “And I live about an hour out.” 

Andrea nodded and signaled to the bartender. 

“I’ll have what she’s having. Top her off, while you’re at it.”

While she was speaking, Alex took a moment to admire the woman beside her. She was butchy in a really delicate way, a black button-up shirt tied flirtatiously at her navel, skin-tight dark pants leaving nothing to the imagination. Her hair was short and choppy, curling against her neck rebelliously. Her eyes were lined with a smudged and smoky black, and her eyes were bright, glittering dangerously.

If she squinted, her new friend almost looked like another brunette she knew. The only difference was Andrea’s eyes were blue like her own.

Perhaps she had a type, Alex begrudgingly admitted to herself. Andrea turned back to her, two drinks in hand. Alex gratefully accepted.

“So, Emily Davis from about an hour out. What brings you here?” She asked head cocked. Alex admired the gentle slope of her neck. 

"I had to escape my small town dream," Alex said vaguely, not entirely lying. "What about you? I presume you're a regular here."

"Regular enough." She replied, taking a sip of her drink. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex asked, a laugh halfway inflicted in her tone.

"That you're lucky to be sitting next to be tonight, Emily Davis from about an hour out," Andrea said mysteriously, a smile flashing her face and showing in her dimples. 

"It's just Emily," Alex corrected, taking another sip of her drink. 

"Okay, just Emily," Andrea smiled before knocking back the rest of her drink without flinching. "Wanna dance?" 

Alex took the invitation as a challenge, taking her glass and attempting to mirror the woman's action. The drink burned her throat and she fought the urge to sputter, shaking her head and clearing her throat to meet her gaze affirmatively.

"Why not, regular enough Andrea?" 

The brunette grinned wickedly before extending a hand to help her down. Alex accepted gracefully, unfolding her legs and unsticking her thighs before grounding herself on the floor. 

She let herself be led towards the dance floor, where a DJ was playing some shitty remix of a tune she'd heard before on radios or in passing. As they approached the epicenter of the dancing, Andrea's hips began to swing rhythmically with the beat. Alex watched, entranced by the movement.

Andrea turned back to face her, and Alex realized she had been caught.

Andrea simply smirked and led her further into the crowd.

In later years, Alex claimed she never really been one for dancing. Andrea made it easy to remember, though, guiding her in swaying and bouncing to the beat. It reminded Alex so much of Olivia that it almost hurt to watch.

They had gone dancing before. It wasn’t Alex’s normal scene, but the squad wanted to try something new one night after a long week, and Alex wasn’t really one to complain. 

She declined dancing, initially, leaving her and Munch alone in their booth. It was weird to see them outside the context of their working lives -- Alex had traded her usual skirt suit for a short light blue dress and Munch was dressed slightly down in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. Fin was in street clothes, and Olivia was wearing a pair of low waisted pants that hugged her thighs and ass with a tiny tank top, revealing a delicious looking sliver of stomach.

Fin and Olivia had joined the crowd on the dance floor.

"Not one for dancing?" Munch asked, looking towards the group.

"I'm afraid not," Alex said, shaking her head. Munch nodded.

"Unlike my partner, apparently, I was born with two left feet," He joked. Alex laughed, eyes still glued to Olivia on the floor.

The way she moved was ethereal. Hips swaying, arms moving fluidly, and sweat making her hair stick to her brow, Olivia Benson looked like she belonged there. She looked beautiful.

Alex Cabot could almost say the same about her partner now, her arms moving fluidity at her sides as she laughed and swayed. Alex stood there, half entranced and half unsure of how to proceed.

"C'mon!" Andrea called, grabbing both of her hands. "Dance! Pull the stick out of your ass!"

"Or what, you'll do it for me?" Alex shouted above the crowd. Andrea smirked and tugged, causing Alex to fall forwards into the woman. She straightened quickly, regaining balance practically on top of Andrea, whose hot breath brushed against her ear.

“That’s more like it,” She said, and Alex breathed out all at once, suddenly flush with heat.

The music boomed around her, filling the air with sound as lights flashed. Alex gripped onto Andrea and Andrea gripped back, they swayed and bounced with the music. Everything tumbled back into her, memories of countless dances at countless clubs nearly a decade ago. She found her feet beneath her and Andrea’s in front of her. Alex laughed, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as sweat beaded across her forehead.

It felt almost as good as it had when Olivia had coaxed her onto the dance floor, uncertain and unsteady. She had been a lot more forgiving than Andrea, willing to wait for Alex to remember what it was like to find her footing there. She remembered how Olivia had smiled shyly, almost afraid to look at her.

She had been afraid, too.

It wasn’t exactly like they were strictly trying to hide it anymore, but it also wasn’t like they could actually confirm it or anything.

She and Olivia had been seeing each other for about 3 months now. They hadn't strictly made it official, but Alex was pretty sure it was exclusive. Talking about labels almost felt like an admission of guilt, so Alex stuck to staring at her ceiling wondering if she could do this for the rest of her life as Olivia snored lightly on her naked chest.

She was beautiful like that, deep in sleep, the worry lines on her forehead smooth and face unbothered by the world or the job or anyone. Olivia Benson was beautiful then, just as she was beautiful on the dance floor.

Olivia had led her deeper into the crowd, further away from Munch and Fin, who had tapped out for a drink. There, in the comfortable anonymity of dim lights and dozens of people, Alex Cabot allowed herself to dance close to Olivia.

The anonymity here, in this club, was not as comfortable as before. It was foreign, unknown. Alex usually avoided bars and clubs unless she was with someone she knew. Perhaps she was paranoid, but being shot had given her a new, anxious perspective on life. 

She felt safer here, surrounded at least by a community of sorts.

Andrea tugged her out of her thoughts forcefully, pulling her closer and closer. They were practically on top of each other now, skin on skin and sweat slicking together. It was hot and dirty and ten years ago Alex probably would have been the one to initiate the contact, although she welcomed it now. It felt familiar, returning home to the touch of a woman.

Once their dancing had crossed the line from casual to suggestive, Andrea wasted no time. Alex felt strong hands on her waist, her back, her ass and Andrea shamelessly explored between verses. Alex returned the favor, hands tracing the sliver of exposed, sticky skin at Andrea's stomach. The brunette grinned, then shouted over the music.

"Wanna get out of here?" 

Alex paused momentarily, considering her options.

Move on, she reminded herself. She was here to move on.

She nodded, and Andrea gave her another wicked smile, pulling her off the dance floor and towards the bar again, where it was quieter. Alex found herself against the wall, tucked away from the loudspeakers. Off the floor, Andrea looked beautiful, body alive with energy and eyes sparkling.

"My place is about 5 minutes from here. I'll call a cab?" She asked, looking to Alex for confirmation. Alex, distracted by the way her lips moved, took a second to reply.

"Yeah," She replied, inattentive. "Yes," she repeated.

Andrea pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number. She didn't take her eyes off of Alex as the phone picked up. Alex listened as she gave the address.

"... Yeah. You'll be there soon? Excellent," She paused, licking her lips. Alex's eyes widened at the movement, and Andrea caught her, raising an eyebrow. "We'll be waiting out front. Thanks." She ended the call, clicking the phone shut and sliding back inside her pocket. She stepped closer to Alex, fully invading her personal space. Alex pressed her back flat against the wall, letting Andrea cage her in.

"What is it?" Andrea asked, inches from her face.

"What?" Alex said breathlessly.

"You've got this look on your face," Andrea said. Alex rolled her eyes and bit her lip, looking down at the other woman.

"Maybe I just like what I see." 

"Yeah?" Andrea smirked, warm hands finding Alex's waist. "We'd be in agreement, then." She breathed, and it took all of Alex's self-control to lean down and kiss the smirk off her cocky features. In an instant Andrea had leaned back and grabbed her hands, intertwining their fingers and leading her towards the exit.

The air outside was brisk but not cold, refreshing Alex and cooling her hot skin. She hadn't let go and neither had Andrea, their fingers still intertwined. The cab pulled up right as they got to the edge of the sidewalk, and Andrea opened the door for her like a gentleman. Alex laughed and got in, raising her eyebrows and sliding over. Andrea followed suit, handing the cabbie a bill and telling him the address. Alex settled into the back seat, thighs sticking to the faux leather as Andrea settled next to her, shutting the door.

The ride was quiet, just the gentle rush of the city around them. They didn’t talk -- instead, Alex felt a warm presence graze over her leg, snaking up against the hem of her dress and coming to rest on her thigh. She leaned into the touch, turning her leg out towards Andrea’s hand and letting the brunette explore along the edge of her dress. The gentle, teasing touches sent heat straight to Alex’s core, heat turning in her gut.

This was good. This was what she needed to move on.

The cab stopped at an apartment building. Andrea turned to Alex, winking at her in the dark before opening the door for her. Alex slid out, leaning into Andrea as the cab reversed out of the spot and drove away.

Andrea’s hand snaked around her lithe waist, supporting her through the door. Alex leaned into the touch, her heart aching -- Olivia always did this, found her hand wrapped around Alex’s waist, resting on her hip bone. Alex had to push away the thought. She was dead, reborn as Emily. Emily didn’t know Olivia. She knew Andrea, leading her into the elevator and pressing the button for the 4th level. That also reminded her of the brunette detective. She decided she wouldn’t let it.

“What’s on your mind, Emily?” Andrea asked, hand on her waist shifted as the elevator doors shut. They were facing each other now, Alex’s arms draping across Andrea’s shoulders naturally.

“You,” Alex lied, admiring the look on Andrea’s face like she wanted her.

Andrea smirked, squeezing her hips. She looked up at Alex lustily.

“That’s funny,” she said, “I was just thinking about you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned forward and Alex mirrored the movement. Suddenly, they were kissing. It occurred to Alex that she hadn’t kissed anyone in so long. Not since Olivia, since the trial and the threats and her life ending and beginning again.

The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. Andrea pulled back, lip caught in her teeth.

“Follow me,” she said, grabbing Alex’s hand, pulling her out the elevator and down the hall. She stopped at one of the vaguely marked doors, fumbling in her purse for the keys. Alex leaned against her, pressing up against her backside. Andrea half turned, looking back up at her as she stuck the key in the lock and turned. The door swung open and they stumbled inside.

Andrea shut the door and locked it behind her, hands instantly finding Alex’s waist again. She pushed her up against the door and Alex let her, the display of dominance enticing and exciting. She caught Alex’s lips in another kiss, tongue pushing against her bottom lip. Alex parted her lips slightly and Andrea took it as an invitation, tongue diving deep into Alex’s mouth. Alex found the buttons on Andrea’s shirt and began to undo them, working her way down her chest until she reached the knot there.

Andrea broke away from her mouth as Alex’s fingers worked the knot open on her shirt. She continued down Alex’s jaw, sucking against the skin and moving to her neck. Alex moaned, tugging the knot open and leaving Andrea’s shirt undone. Andrea pulled back and grinned, hands resting on Alex’s hips and cupping her ass.

“You like that?” She asked. Alex, distracted by Andrea’s black lace bra now exposed to the air, took a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” She agreed, regaining her footing. “I’d like it better if we were in your bed, though.”

“I like the way you think,” Andrea said, looking at Alex ravenously. “Follow me,” She said, leading Alex down the hallway and pushing open another door. Andrea’s bedroom was painted a blue-grey, fresh white comforter rumpled at the top. Andrea pushed Alex back against it, and Alex let her knees buckle and fall back on the soft bed. Andrea pushed her shirt off her shoulders, discarding it on the ground. Alex reached up behind her, unlatching her bra with practiced ease. Andrea’s eyes widened in surprise and then hardened as she shrugged the garment off, letting her breasts hang free.

“Impressive,” she murmured, hands finding the hem of Alex’s dress and grabbing fistfuls of it.

“I’ve had my fair share of practice,” Alex admitted, lifting her arms and allowing Andrea to slide the dress off over her head. She kicked off her heels only to pause, Andrea’s gaze fixed on her chest.

Oh, shit, right. Her scar.

Andrea lifted her hand and traced the divet in her shoulder.

“What the hell happened to you, Emily from about an hour out?” Andrea asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Alex replied, watching Andrea’s face cautiously. She tried not to think about it, the puckered ring of healed skin that sat in the upper right side of her chest, just above her heart. She hasn’t thought about it until now, how she must look to the other woman.

“Were you shot?” She asked, and Alex looked away dismissively. She sat up, digging her palms into the comforter and Andrea shifted back, feet firmly planted on the floor. The pair sat in silence for a moment.

“Look,” Andrea said hesitantly. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway.”

Her hands found Alex’s cheeks, gently cupping her face. The moment felt too tender for just a hookup, for sex designed to help her forget and not remember.

“I think you’re a lot more complex than Emily from about an hour out,” Andrea admitted. Alex wished she would stop calling her that. “But that’s none of my business. I do think you’re super fucking hot and I’ve been wanting to get that dress off of you since I sat down next to you at the bar. I don’t care where you came from or what happened to you. Really.”

Alex considered the other woman for a moment before leaning forwards, looking up at Andrea. Her hands came to rest on the button of Andrea’s pants. “What are you waiting for, then?”

Andrea smirked as Alex undid the button and pulled down the fly, allowing her to push down her waistband, revealing a simple black thong that hugged her hips deliciously. Andrea peeled off her pants and then grabbed Alex firmly by the shoulders, pushing her back against the bed.

Alex let herself fall back, caged in by the other woman as she climbed onto the bed overtop of her. Andrea sat back on her heels, letting her hands travel around her chest and under her back, reaching the clasp of her bra. She unhooked it, and Alex shimmied her shoulders forward to allow the other to remove the garment. Andrea grinned wolfishly at Alex’s exposed chest before returning to what he had been doing before, sucking a pattern of bright red marks along Alex’s neck and jaw. Alex writhed and moaned again when Andrea’s hand that had been bracing itself against her chest reached up to tweak her nipple.

It occurred to her then, in this haze of passion, that Andrea was the first person to see her scar. She had kept it bandaged for months, afraid to look at it. It held the weight of her previous life, balanced on the uneven edges of the pinkish skin. Eventually, she tried to forget it was there, the same way she tried to forget her name was Alex. The same way she tried to forget Olivia.

Remember the brunette sent her hurtling back to earth, where another brunette was currently rolling her nipple between her fingers and sucking a hickey onto her chest. Andrea squeezed her nipple suddenly, and Alex’s hips bucked.

“Fuck,” She moaned, and Andrea looked up, pleased with herself. She did it again, sending another jolt down Alex’s spine. Andrea continued massaging her breast, her other hand sneaking down her side and spine and finding her clit through her panties.

“Is this okay?” Andrea asked, neatly-trimmed fingernail grazing up and down her panties. The contact sent shivers up and down Alex, heat turning in her gut and soaking through her panties.

She nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes,” she replied, “please.”

Andrea grinned, stopping to dig her fingers into both sides of Alex’s waistband. Alex lifted her hips, letting her last remaining garment be discarded on Andrea’s floor, leaving her exposed and soaking wet on Andrea’s bed. Andrea ran a finger along her folds, circling her clit. Alex gasped.

“Yeah?” Andrea asked, finger dipping inside her. Alex made a noise, nodding affirmatives.

Andrea slowly began pumping her finger in and out of Alex, slowly adding another. Alex panted, squirmed, and writhed, drinking up the sensation like sweet nectar. It had been so long since she had been touched like this.

The last time, it had been Olivia’s hands inside her, on her breasts, in her mouth. Alex was overwhelmed by the memory of that and the current sensation of this. Andrea was pumping two fingers in and out, in and out. Alex pushed her hips to meet her thrusts and Andrea braced a hand against her hip possessively, pushing Alex down into the bed and almost caging her in. Fingers still moving, she leaned down to catch Alex’s lips in a searing kiss. Alex leaned up into the touch, allowing Andrea’s tongue into her mouth.

She was getting close, her entire body on fire. She panted into Andrea’s mouth, desperate noises rising high in her throat. Andrea sat back, chest heaving, hand finding Alex’s breast and again rolling her nipple between her fingers. Alex’s eyes widened, throwing her head back in pleasure.

“You like that, Emily?” She asked, lips red and color rising in her cheeks. 

Alex nodded emphatically, “Yes, God, Andrea, please.”

“Please what?” the brunette asked.

“Please,” Alex panted, “don’t stop.”

Andrea grinned wickedly, sharply pinching Alex’s nipple. Alex’s back arched like an electric shock and she moaned aloud. Andrea’s thumb found her clit and the slight sensation was almost too much, her hips moving erratically against Andrea’s fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut. Andrea bent over, taking her nipple in her mouth, and the sensation sent Alex hurtling over the edge. Her entire body convulsed, legs shaking as she reached her climax, clenching around Andrea’s fingers. 

“Oh my god,” Alex said, riding through the sensation, “oh my god.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Andrea said, slowly pulling her fingers out of Alex and offering them to the blonde. Alex gracefully accepted, opening her mouth submissively and letting the brunette slide her fingers in, gently licking clean. Andrea watched her, entranced by the action. Alex looked back at her, eyes trained on her. She pulled back, letting her fingers make a loud, wet pop against her lips.

“God, you’re hot,” Andrea said in wonder. Alex smiled, sitting up on her elbows.

“Y’know, that’s not the only thing my mouth is good for,” Alex insinuated. Andrea grinned.

“Now, I would hope not, Emily,” she replied.

Alex sat up all the way and Andrea shifted towards her. They kissed again, and Alex knew that Andrea could taste her on her tongue. Alex’s hands found Andrea’s waist, moving up to cup her breasts. If Alex shut her eyes, anyone could be anyone touching her like this, tongue in her mouth, breasts in her hands. She shifted, hands on her shoulders, and gently pushed Andrea down against the bed. To her surprise, Andrea went, hands finding Alex’s shoulders and resting against the base of her neck.

Alex began working her way down, kissing and sucking against Andrea’s jaw and neck. Andrea was more vocal than she, words of encouragement and filth streaming out of her mouth.

“Just like that, Emily,” she praised, gasping when Alex took her nipple in her mouth. Her hands reached up, digging into Alex’s scalp, and Alex shivered at the sensation. She continued kissing down her stomach, stopping at the waistband of her panties. She dug her fingers into the elastic and looked up to Andrea for confirmation. Andrea nodded, and Alex slowly pulled them down. Andrea had soaked through her panties, and Alex smirked, pleased with herself.

Andrea watched in fascination as Alex discarded the garment and then turned back to her before dropping her head and beginning to suck a line of red marks up her inner thigh. Andrea squirmed above her, hands rooting themselves firmly in Alex’s hair.

“Fuck,” she moaned, “quit teasing, Emily.”

Alex grinned into her thigh before moving up and tentatively running her tongue up and down Andrea’s entrance. Andrea moaned, tugging at her hair, and Alex doubled her efforts, dipping deeper inside Andrea before circling her clit with her tongue. The brunette moaned, bucking into Alex’s mouth. Alex kept teasing at the brunette’s entrance and Andrea responded in kind, panting and moaning above her.

If Alex closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that it was Olivia below her and not some almost-stranger. She could almost pretend that the streams of noises coming from above her belonged to the detective. 

She thought about the last time they had done this. It had been about a week before the Zapata case. A week before her life had disappeared and she had uprooted from the people she considered family. It had been late, court letting out in the dark of night. Olivia was waiting for her there, outside of the courtroom. They went to her apartment that night, not Olivia’s, and had laid in bed afterward, staring at the dark ceiling. 

“God, I think I could do this forever,” Olivia had admitted.

“What?” Alex asked, “make me cum so hard I forget my name?”

“No,” Olivia replied, “but that sounds pretty good, too. I meant this. Us.”

The admission settled uneasily in the air.

“I don’t know if I could hide this forever, Liv, and I don’t know if we could get away with being open about it,” Alex admitted.

“It’s lasted this long,” Olivia rebutted.

“Yeah, but it’s only a matter of time before someone asks why we leave together, or sees us out in public, or worse, in the office. It’s such a hard thing to keep quiet.”

“But you do it anyway,” Olivia remarked, rolling over to face her.

“I do,” Alex said. “I guess I just can’t stop.” 

Olivia smiled before returning to her back. “Do you ever think about the future?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” Alex admitted.

“I mean, our future.”

Our. Us. It scared her, a little bit.

Alex closed her eyes for a second before opening them again. “I don’t know what the future holds, exactly. But I hope it’s with you.”

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed. “Yeah, me too.

Olivia had fallen asleep on her chest that night as Alex ran her fingers through her choppy brown hair. She hadn’t known that in a week everything would change, her life would flip upon its head and then disappear from her completely. She hadn’t known that would be the last time Olivia slept peacefully on her chest.

But, she wasn’t Alex anymore, she reminded herself. She didn’t know any Olivia. Her name was Emily Davis and Andrea was currently tugging at her hair and moaning loudly, thrusting her hips against Alex’s mouth. Alex’s tongue found her clit again and circled it, moving faster and faster.

“Fuck, Emily,” Andrea moaned. “Oh my god, Emily.”

As Alex brought her closer and closer to her climax, she dug her hands into Alex’s hair and tugged hair. Alex moaned into her hips, tongue working fast as Andrea heaving above her. Her hands traveled up, bracing themselves against her stomach as she drew in short, erratic breaths.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” Andrea panted. “Oh my god, I’m gonna come, Emily, please.”

Suddenly, Andrea’s body went taut as she cried out. Her legs shook, fingers digging into the sheet as she said again and again.

“Emily, oh my god, Emily. Fuck, Emily.”

Alex let her ride through her orgasm before pulling up, chin wet and cheeks pink. Andrea looked dazed, grin lazily pulling at her mouth.

“Holy shit, Emily,” she said.

“Yeah?” Alex asked, leaning towards her. Andrea leaned up, catching her mouth in a lazy kiss before laying back on the bed.

“You can stay,” Andrea said. “Or not. It doesn’t matter.”

Alex didn’t answer, instead pulling herself up next to Andrea in bed.

Later, when Andrea had fallen asleep and left Alex staring at the pattern the streetlight made on the ceiling, Alex studied the brunette in her slumber. She was asleep on Alex’s chest and the similarity was almost painful.

Emily, she had called her again and again. Emily.

It wasn’t her name. It would never be her name.

Alex Cabot didn’t sleep that night. When she left at some ungodly hour, collecting her bra and panties and dress from the floor, she paused at the door. Andrea was sleeping peacefully, curled up in her bed. Something weighed heavy in Alex’s heart. She stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Somewhere, almost one thousand miles away, another brunette was asleep in her own bed, curled against the pillows.

“Goodnight, Olivia,” Alex murmured, and then she was gone.


End file.
